Together In Exile
by Dalek9
Summary: (Android AU) After happening upon a Rat Den, Chell contemplates her life in Aperture. Devastated by her losses, she reveals a side of her to Wheatley that she rarely lets anyone see... (Written as Chelley, but can be taken as just a friendship. Inspired by Exile Vilify by The National, but doesn't feature any lyrics.)


Chell walked into the room, stepping cautiously. She didn't quite know why she had bothered coming in here—she usually only found cryptic messages and a heap of garbage—but she did. Maybe it was because she found refuge in being anywhere without a security camera. Maybe it was the prophetic mystery that brought her there by intrigue. Or maybe it was simply her needing a break from the prolonged testing.

Whichever it was, whenever she found one of these places, she'd come.

The woman briefly glanced over her shoulder, just to make sure GLaDOS hadn't sent anything after her. When she saw that the coast was clear, she took a deep breath, and explored her surroundings. The lighting was dimmer than she would've hoped, but she could still see.

Inside, it was a vent. The swooping buzz of a fan underneath her feet drowned out almost all noise from outside the room. Sure enough, a plethora of bent soda cans littered the ground, along with one or two plastic jugs and even a few painted bricks of office equipment. Chell tried to lift one with her gravity gun, but it appeared that anything other than trash refused to leave the room—a stubbornness that reminded her of herself.

Her eyes traveled across the grimy walls, her attention drawn to the spray-paint artwork. This time, a poem accompanied each of the pictures, telling of some kind of takeover. One of the figures resembled her, which made her more than a bit uncomfortable. Based on how Wheatley had unknowingly spoken of her earlier, Chell had become something of a legend since destroying GLaDOS.

She remembered the tone in which Wheatley had spoken of her time in stasis. Based on the inflection, Chell guessed that she had to have been asleep for about twenty years, at the very least. She wondered if the sun would still feel the same way on her skin as it did when she—

Chell shot down that thought. She would eventually get out, but she couldn't think of what had already happened. Not now.

As she stood in the center of the room, she heard the soft sound of a song she hadn't heard in a while. She could barely hear it over the fan, but she recognized it. The notes played on the piano, the raspy voice—almost like the singer were begging for a glass of water—she remembered them clearly.

She felt something pulsing in her throat. With every pulse, it felt more and more dry. Chell swallowed, hoping to fix the issue. The action only angered it.

A weight seemed to press on her muscles, her breaths becoming labored, as though she had been sprinting from turrets. The chamber had been more taxing mentally than it had been physically, so she didn't know why she felt this way. Or, at least, she pretended she didn't.

Her eyes began to burn, as though they had been lit on fire. However, instead of smoke, the only thing released from the flames was the moisture her throat lacked. She wiped the drops away with her left hand, refusing to let these show, even in isolation.

Isolation. That was where she was. After feeling overjoyed from reaching the surface, she was back in isolation.

The bridge of her nose began to ache with pangs of dull pain, and she soon couldn't breathe out of it. She took in each breath through her mouth, making it feel as though sand were being tossed around in her throat. She gasped for air, even though the recycled air she was breathing had no contaminants, save for dust kicked up by the fan.

The drops that had once inched off her face now came down in streams, blurring her vision. Unlike water was supposed to do, it only reignited the burning blaze. She tried to wipe them away, even putting down her portal gun to do so, but they came too swiftly.

Her legs trembled, and, despite their strength, they weakened. Chell sat on the ground, not wanting to fall over. Her long-fall boots got caught on the iron mesh beneath her, but she simply took them off and threw them to the corner of the room.

Her arms clung to her sides as her chest shook. She clenched her teeth, not caring about the pain. Every now and then, she would release a moan or sigh. Other than that, her quick breathing, the whirring of the fan and the song were the only sounds filling the room.

Chell had spent so much time in Aperture, fighting for a life in the real world. Within minutes of achieving her dream, she had been dragged back to the facility. Now, she had no idea how much time had passed since that day.

Was this her future? Was she doomed to stay in Aperture for the rest of her life, risking everything for a being only out to destroy her? It sure seemed like it.

It was then that she felt something rest on her shoulder. She whipped her head around, trying to muster the strength the fight against whoever it was. However, when she saw who it was, she stopped.

His blue eyes shone—literally—as he attempted to give a lopsided smile. His pale, synthetic skin and light gray sweater-vest stood out against the dirty brown walls of the room. His usually-perfectly-groomed blonde hair was more than a bit of a mess, and, had this been at any other time, Chell would have laughed.

Wheatley's face was sprinkled with small rips, but the biggest one was on his right cheekbone. All of them gave away the mechanics underneath, and if she looked closely, she could still see a few stray fibers from the bird's feathers. Other than that, he looked human.

Wheatley took his hand off her shoulder, and she grabbed it. She looked at the ground, refusing to make eye-contact with him in her time of weakness. Chell pressed in the silicone skin on his fingertip and tried to distract herself with popping it in and out, knowing that he wouldn't feel anything.

His free hand gently guided her chin upwards, forcing her to look at him. Reflexively, she knocked his hand away, but when she gazed into those blue eyes…she couldn't keep it together. Tears flowed down once more, and her stuffed-up nose forced her to audibly sob.

Before she knew it, Chell had thrown her arms around Wheatley, slightly knocking his glasses askew. Luckily, with her facing away from his rips, she wouldn't have to worry about him short-circuiting. She could feel him tense up in shock, but he soon relaxed and wrapped his own arms around her.

She grabbed a fistful of his sweater-vest, holding it as though her life depended on it. She felt his baby blue tie rub against her collarbone. His silicone skin massaged her back, the android attempting to comfort her.

For as long as she had known him, Wheatley had always tried his best to help her. Sure, sometimes he messed up, but she'd much rather have someone fail at trying to help her than succeed at trying to hurt her. Chell had enough experience with the latter for one lifetime.

When they'd met, he had just saved her life. Since then, he had awkwardly tried to help her in every way he could, big or small. He'd even risked being discovered to come comfort her just now.

She rested her head on his shoulder, and she heard him give a quiet chuckle. She smiled, her tears slowly trickling to a stop. She gave a loud sniff, trying to clear her nose. She squeezed him, giving a soft laugh of her own—the first time anyone in Aperture had heard her voice.

Chell knew she was in isolation here, but, with Wheatley, she looked to the future with determination. She knew they'd get out of Aperture, one way or another. Until then, she would be loyal to him, and something in her told her that it would go both ways.

At the very least, at least she wasn't alone.


End file.
